


Mr. Moon's Roving Eye, or: Good Heavens, Whatever Shall I Tell The Wife?

by Vituperative_cupcakes



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M, hot neighbor sex, imaginary infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vituperative_cupcakes/pseuds/Vituperative_cupcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard Moon is stuck in a stagnating coconut marriage. One day his eye wanders to his attractive next-door neighbor and he decides to pay an afternoon visit...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Moon's Roving Eye, or: Good Heavens, Whatever Shall I Tell The Wife?

Precious was out of sorts again.

Howard laughed to himself. When _wasn't_ she out of sorts, nowadays?

Precious was giving him the coconut shoulder, sitting silent in a corner of the hut facing away from him. Howard stood with elbow propped on the bamboo windowsill as he gazed out of the hut.

They didn't talk anymore. It felt like he did all the heavy conversational lifting while Precious stared accusingly at him. It wouldn't be so bad if she'd let him talk to other people, but even Milky Joe was off limits, even for a small cup of coconut coffee.

Howard sighed. And the sex...

God, it had never been good. He could admit it, even if it was only in his head, he allowed himself that tiny act of rebellion. He had done all the work from day one. It had been expected, of course, Precious was such a high-class lady and Howard was...Howard was Howard. He always struggled with girls. But lately the sex had taken a drop in quality. Why, it was hardly better than if he were touching himself!

Howard snuck a peek behind him.

Precious didn't, in fact, have those powers of telepathy he so often suspected she had, or if she did she was saving it all up for the next opportunity to throw it in his face.

That was how it went. Cut him down, make him really hurt, take all the wind from his sails. Like Vince sometimes had done, but meaner.

As if summoned, Vince strode from the underbrush. He was slim and tan and even assembled leaf clothing suited him. And as the sun gleamed off of him like polished metal, a sudden urge popped unasked into Howard's head.

It said, _let's go talk to Vince_.

That's what it  _said_ . But there was so much more behind it, an ache that Howard knew he'd never be able to put into words.

He snuck another look back at Precious. She was in a perfect stew, fuming at the shelves he'd put up last night. That was what did it. Not the innate longing for companionship, not the fact that he was so hard up for physical affection that his trousers no longer fit properly. It was the fact that he was never good enough for her.

Howard stood abruptly. “Gonna go...check...shelves. We need more shelves.”

He moved to the door in a way that did not brook further question, but he still dreaded her stare at his back. He risked a sidelong glance back in the hut just before he closed the palmetto door.

She was still staring at the wall. God, that meant he was in for it when he got home.

Howard hesitated, hand on the knob fashioned from a fiddler crab. Maybe if he went back in right now, made an excuse, groveled, wept, maybe, maybe...

He withdrew his hand. If he was going to catch hell for doing something, he might as well do it.

Vince's hut was more like a bungalow. Howard smiled a little at that. If there was an architectural equivalent to Vince, that would've been it.

Vince came round the corner, chatting animatedly on a shellphone.

“—look, I'm not saying that's too many poppers, but you want to pace yourself the first time out...”he trailed off when he saw Howard.

“Listen, I've got to go, me mate's over,” he said, snapping the phone shut.

This small consideration was like a breadcrust to a starving man. Howard already wanted more.

“Been a while, yeah?” Vince had a carefully neutral expression, cupping one elbow with his hand.

Howard tried to be breezy. “oh well, with Precious, you know, hardly ever leave the bedroom.”  _Because there's so many shelves it blocks the door._

Vince nodded, folding his arms. “You know, Ruby hasn't talked with Precious in ages. We were wondering how you were getting on.”

“Oh...about that.” Howard pondered the best way to navigate the fraught waters before him. “You remember saying you and Ruby have an...open relationship?”

“No way, man, Ruby's still creeped out from our last double date when you spilled that coconut bisque on her.”

“Look, Precious hit my–it's not important. I wasn't asking about Ruby.”

The position and shape of Vince's eyebrows changed ever so slightly.

“Were you, now?” he asked, not really asking.

Howard turned his eyes to the sand fidgeting. He knew what he wanted to ask, knew exactly how he wanted to ask it, but some small part of him was going  _I know this is really all a dream and we're really off our faces on an island alone, I'm so lonely I've created my own abusive girlfriend so just please, please this once can we forget ourselves Vince?_

After a long silence, Vince sighed and rolled his head back on his neck.

“D'you want to come in for a bit?” he asked.

Howard nodded meekly, still looking down at the sand. He followed Vince into the hut, let Vince guide him through the hall to the palm-frond bed with the seagull-down duvet. He let Vince's palms press him down to the covers, sitting awkwardly splay-legged on the low bed. Vince stood above him, watching him, playing with Howard's hair.

“How's it really been?” he asked.

Howard gulped. “Lonely.” And more.

Vince sucked his lower lip in, moistening it, and let it plump back out again. Howard watched it like a dog watching a tennis match.

Vince smiled slightly and fluffed his hair. “No Milky Joe, then?”

“Never, not in a thousand years.” Howard tentatively took hold of Vince's wrists. “The man thought _The Sorrows of Young Werther_ was a more complex narrative than _L’Étranger_.”

“Really?” Vince was amused. “How unsexy. I don't blame you one bit.”

Howard knew he was being made fun of, but it didn't sting as much as it might once have. He pressed his face to Vince stomach and breathed deep. He could detect a little hitch of breath above him, could feel Vince's stomach muscles tense just ever so slightly. And he knew then that it was going to be all right.

Vince petted Howard's hair, his shoulders, hands finally coming to rest on Howard's back. He had a twinkle in his eye.

“You're getting shaggy. You could do with a visit from the midnight barber.”

Howard smiled weakly. “It's the middle of the day.”

Vince took Howard's hand. “Oh, I'm sure he could be convinced to adjust his schedule.” He brought Howard's hand up to his face. “Temporarily.” He made Howard's thumb brush against his mouth. “For an old client.”

“What d'you mean _old_?” Howard said, seizing Vince's waist with the other arm, pulling him close and startling him into laughter, “how could he tell how old I am if he barbers in the dark like a thief?”

Vince was still above him, kneeling and straddling Howard so that Howard could look up at him.

...or maybe so that he could look down at Howard.

“Midnight barber's got excellent night vision,” Vince said, stroking up and down Howard's shoulders, up and down. “He's like Santa Claus. He knows when you're getting shaggy, he knows when you need a bit of a trim, he can hear the cry of despairing follicles from half a world over.”

“Can we get off hair, please?”

“I thought we had.” Vince's eyes twinkled with mirth, and he slowly lowered until he was sitting on Howard's lap.

Howard quickly looked out the window. “Vince...are you sure?”

Vince rolled a shoulder easily. “Ruby's out for the day. Why are you so worried?”

Before Howard could answer, Vince closed his mouth with a kiss.

The old saw about getting off with a neighbor in a clandestine afternoon rendezvous wasn't any less hot for how utterly cliche it was. Howard was harder than a palm tree. Vince, though he might deny it to his dying day, was no less eager. Evidence of that was poking through his leaf trousers, splitting them.

Howard tore them off in a fit of lust.

Vince slapped his shoulder. “Those took a long time, you berk!”

Howard tried to apologize, but suddenly found something other than Vince's tongue in his mouth. A moment of disgust and cultural shame nearly made him spit it out again. Then he looked up and found Vince mock-sternly glaring down, petting Howard's hair even more.

Howard Moon began to suck.

Without Vince's enthusiastic encouragement, he would have been too petrified to continue. He had never done anything like this, and he would have assumed he'd be as terrible at it as he was most forms of social interactions. But Vince was sighing, Vince was moaning, Vince was saying _yes, Howard, exactly like that_ –

Vince held Howard's head and pulled away suddenly, so strings of saliva were the only remnant of connection between them.

“Why'd you do that?” Howard demanded plaintively. He did a mental double-take. _Had he really just said that?_

But Vince was shaking his head, shucking off his leaf-shirt and that bloody headband.

“No more time for that,” he said, and Howard's heart sank.

Vince looked down, tapping his foot. “Are you just going to sit there?”

Howard swallowed up his cries of dismay and rose. Let if never be said that Howard Moon begged for affection, no matter how aching the tease left him, no matter how much he wanted to whimper like a little boy, no matter how much he wanted those to be Vince's hand creeping into his trousers...

Wait. Those _were_ Vince's hands creeping into his trousers.

Howard gaped as Vince fondled him, smiling sweetly as he backed Howard to the wall.

“Can't have all the fun, can I?” he asked.

Vince took him in mouth and Howard did really moan. Well, murmur. More of a squeak, really. Vince laughed, Howard could feel the vibrations, but he didn't mind because _dear god, Vince's mouth was around his cock._

Howard pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes. The stray thought that one of the other neighbors might come by and see them drifted across his mind. He sank it. Completely impossible, of course. The neighbors were...the neighbors probably weren't out and about, in any case. And Precious was home having a good sulk.

Howard rolled his hips. Whatever guilt he had about cheating was effervescing like salts in a bath, as insignificant as the fly tapping against his wrist—

Vince pulled off, gasping. “What're you trying to do, you idiot, choke me?”

Howard realized the fly had in fact been Vince's hand, that he had unconsciously tangled his hand in Vince's hair, and that the hip-roll had been a little too enthusiastic.

“Sorry,” he said.

Vince was coughing, wiping bits of saliva from his hair. “Jesus. You need to get off more, Howard. The lack of sex is making you into a serial killer.”

“Well it wasn't on purpose.” The old irritation was surfacing. “Anyway, I'm not done. Get back on there.”

Vince shook his head. “No way. The midnight barber has too many heads left unstyled.”

“Vince, _please._ ”

“Get down here, you berk.” Vince snagged his hands and pulled Howard down.

Vince kissed Howard before he could react, twining their tongues as if he wanted them to take root. Howard's momentary disgust(he knew where that mouth had just been... _both_ mouths, at that) melted into compliance when Vince took them both in one long-fingered hand.

Nothing Precious lillywhite ever could do or had done could equal this. Vince was a tease, but he knew how to deliver. He would give little nips and then plaster the area soothingly with his tongue. Howard, for his part, found that Vince loved it when he gave great, sucking kisses on his neck. Feeling Vince tense and shudder pleasantly in his arms was worth all the hastily-assembled bookshelves in the world. Suddenly, it was like the two of them really were alone on the island, that there was no Precious or Ruby or Joe. Just the two of them. And it was perfect.

Howard came first, Vince's nip of his ear sent little stars sleeting across his vision. The noise he made sent Vince off, who topped them an octave higher. They smiled stickily at each other.

“You think Precious would notice if I gave you a trim?”

“Yeah,” Howard noted glumly, “best not.”

Vince teased a lock of Howard's hair around one finger, letting it unspool before winding it up again. “How about a quick rinse? I've been working on a formula. Whelk blood and seagull egg white. I call it 'Island Breeze.' What do you say?”

“Vince...” Howard sighed. He looked at Vince's hopeful expression.

“Let's go for a swim.”

Vince crowed in delight, snatching up several coconut halves. They spent the afternoon bathing in the lagoon.

 


End file.
